THE SEAL
The sea has lapped at it
Three months now,
Rushing in – then out,
Dissatisfied,
Empty handed.
For IT is yet
Too large to move,
Still, grounded to the sand
& reluctant to be reclaimed.
The eyes are gone,
( early summer
raven meals )
& the skin is
laid back half-way
from the bone beneath.
Still,
It is here remaining,
( blubber unconsumed,
partially mummified
by the tide )
still staring out
through fly-covered sockets.
How is it
( I wonder aloud )
that you came here?
And why do you still persist?
You’re time here is done
And the waves
Call you back
To the waiting arms
Of the Mother,
The Baker.
No answer comes,
Only empty holes
With a hint
Of lingering fire.
Only teeth bared
Beyond repair,
Smiling at the Punch-Line
Of a joke that
Sailed over my head...
& is three months gone.
-Paul Humphrey
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